


Do you ache for him too?

by calikitten



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate version written before 3x13, Angst, BSHCI, Boats and Ships, Declarations Of Love, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Fluff, Hannibal in Love, Happy Ending, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e12 The Number of the Beast is 666, Referenced violence, Romance, Running Away Together, Sailing, Season/Series 03, Will is in Love too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4677104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calikitten/pseuds/calikitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will holds his posture up straight as his shoes make soft sounds on the hallway floor. Hannibal would be proud of you. The thought sounds absurd inside his head and he hears it in Bedelia’s voice, the same voice that had confirmed his realization about Hannibal’s feelings, his feelings about Will. He swallows as he reaches the glass of Hannibal’s cell. Is Hannibal in love with me? </p><p>“Hello, Will.” </p><p>Hannibal regards him with a brief smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes, as he stands up from where he had sat cross-legged in the empty cell. “I was beginning to wonder if you would come and see me again soon.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you ache for him too?

**Author's Note:**

> So, here is what I want to happen in the finale. This was written before that.
> 
> I hope you find some comfort in the happy ending I have provided! So that finale happened and I am an emotion forever! It was so beautiful.
> 
> Also, on that note, there are no spoilers for 3x13 here, but there are 3x12 spoilers.
> 
> Enjoy lovely Fannibals.

As Will Graham ascends the steps to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane he no longer feels the fear of it, the fear that they would never let him out; it seems illogical, given all that has happened, all that he has done now, it seems as if it was only more likely. However, he had been here many times, and knows that in this moment, they will not keep him there, however much he himself believes he may belong.

Will can still see the burnt form of Frederick Chilton in the back of his eyelids, hear the sounds of his screams ringing in his ears, and feel the soft texture of his suit as Will had  placed his arm over Frederick’s shoulder; the last is somehow the worst. Will feels terrible, horrified, and guilty. He _knows_ he is guilty, and Bedelia’s conformation only gives him clarity. They are his own actions, and he feels, he always feels, empathy and sorrow for Frederick, and he knows that if this had been before it would have broken him; but it is not _before_ , it is _now_. Will no longer allows it to break him, and he pushes the scream and sobs that are willing to break free at the thought of it to the back of his mind.

He holds his posture up straight as his shoes make soft sounds on the hallway floor. _Hannibal would be proud of you_. The thought sounds absurd inside his head and he hears it in Bedelia’s voice, the same voice that had confirmed his realization about Hannibal’s feelings, his feelings about _Will_. He swallows as he reaches the glass of Hannibal’s cell. _Is Hannibal in love with me?_

“Hello, Will.”

Hannibal regards him with a brief smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes, as he stands up from where he had sat cross-legged in the empty cell. “I was beginning to wonder if you would come and see me again soon.”

_Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you, and find nourishment at the very sight of you?_

“Hannibal,” Wills says, walking up closer to the glass wall.

Hannibal’s gaze snaps to his intently and his maroon eyes seem to search Will’s. They seem to stare deep through him, seem to search for an explanation of the shift, the return to the first-name basis. Perhaps this scrutiny should make Will uncomfortable, but it doesn’t; it fills him to the brim with emotions that have been attempting to rise, to overwhelm him.

Will’s lips part as he breathes out slowly. “You are in love with me.” It is not a question, it is a statement, and he is surprised his voice carries the words correctly like this, the words that escape him without a second thought.

Will watches as Hannibal takes in these words. He can see the breath that Hannibal breaths out, the breath that stretches between them as neither breathe in this moment. Hannibal’s eyes leave Will for only a second to glance at the floor, and when they return to meet Will’s they are wide with certainty and sincerity.

 _Yes_. Bedelia’s answer swirls through Will’s mind.

“Yes,” Hannibal answers, though it wasn’t a question, and they both breathe again.

Will’s jaw clenches and he feels the tears forming the corners of his eyes threatening to escape. The emotions held inside spill out and overwhelm him. He reaches out a hand and presses it against the cold glass separating them.

Hannibal walks closer to him them, steps in front of Will, and he holds his hand out to press against the glass where Will’s hand is pressed on the other side. When Will looks at Hannibal he can see the formation of tears reflected in his eyes as well, his normally reserved and carefully masked face open and vulnerable to Will. It’s as if Hannibal is fully visible to Will now, that he has given this, has given everything to him. All of Hannibal’s inexplicable action are suddenly made clear to Will: his actions at Muskrat Farm, his gentleness, his surrender, calling the Dragon…

“I have been in love with you for a long time now,” Hannibal says.

The glass is not the thickest, but it is a solid and unmoving barrier, and it is suddenly not enough, so Will moves his hand off of Hannibal’s reflected hand on the glass and reaches through one of the holes in search of touch.

The touch is given to him quickly, as soft and slender fingers curl around Will’s hand, and Will squeezes Hannibal’s hand back as he attempts to speak and the words catch in his throat. Hannibal’s thumb caresses Will’s palm lightly, fingertips running over rough calluses there, and the touch makes it _real_. It is all at once too much and not enough.

“The Red Dragon must be taken care of,” Will says, to say anything else.

“Of course,” Hannibal replies, his hand warm on Will’s hand, “I’m sure you will manage it well.”

Will nods absently and licks his lips.

“I hope to join you soon,” Hannibal continues.

“Yes,” Will breathes, not trusting himself to say anything else, and he needs to leave now, or he may punch through the glass himself. It takes much effort to free his hand, but Will manages, and nods again to Hannibal before looking away and walking down the hall.

Will can still feel the press of Hannibal’s fingers against his own hand when he leaves the building.

_Do you ache for him too?_

* * *

 

After dealing with the Red Dragon, after Molly has left him for her and her son’s safety, Will finds himself jumping onto his boat again, looking behind him to find Hannibal jumping on after him. He unties the boat from the dock and they begin to float away from the U.S. off into the ocean.

He looks over to Hannibal to see him watching him, still wearing the grey prison suit, and Will frowns, digging in a box to fish out an old pair of jeans and a blue button-down shirt, a spare pair of clothes he keeps here.

Will holds them out awkwardly to Hannibal. “Here, this is all I have… You can, uhh, buy new clothes when we get there…”

Hannibal takes the clothes from him and says, “Thank you, this is fine for now. I have finances available in Europe.”

“Of course,” Will comments, mind drifting to where they will go, what they will do.

While Hannibal ducks into the cabin to change, Will puts up the sails as the boat travels further onto the water, the land behind fading into the distance. The further out they go, the more Will is calmed, his cluttered thoughts in his never-silent mind pushed away by the feel of the wind on his face and the sound of the waves crashing against the boat.

“It’s beautiful.”

Will startles, turning to him quickly, not hearing Hannibal return. Will has never taken anyone with him on his boat before. He watches him and notes that Hannibal looks different here, on Will’s boat, floating in the ocean, wearing Will’s clothes. The clothes are a bit small on him, pants not quite reaching the end of his prison shoes, and shirt tight. Will watches his hair, still short, move against his forehead slightly in the wind, and thinks his own hair must be everywhere. He finds that, perhaps because he has not seen Hannibal outside of the BHSCI in years or perhaps because of recent events, he looks softer somehow, reachable even. He meets Will’s eyes briefly.

Will looks back at the ocean in front of them. “Yes, I often go out here to clear my thoughts.” He looks up into the sky to find it bright and blue with only a few cloud wisps spread across it. The smell of the ocean seeps into his body and for the first time in a long while, Will relaxes.

He glances at Hannibal and then he lowers himself down and lays out on his back across the boat deck, face open towards the sky. He finds Hannibal looking at him curiously before joining him, lying down face upwards to the right of Will.

Will looks back at the sky, hands behind his head, and he closes his eyes for a moment. He allow the rocking of the boat and quiet sounds, the lapping of waves, birds in the distance, his breathing, and Hannibal’s even breaths to do just that, to soothe him.

“I see why you enjoy this,” he hears Hannibal saying quietly, his voice almost a whisper in the wind, “It’s relaxing, away from the world. Problems seem meaningless, complications fade into the ocean; thoughts are lulled by the quiet and calm beauty, clearer and free from the usual associations of the world you inhabit.”                                                                                                                                                      

Will breathes in and out slowly in tempo with the waves. “Out here the world does not exist beyond this boat, beyond this point in the ocean, only surrounded by more of the same ocean, stretching on infinitely. It’s as if even time does not matter, much less anything else, much less shattered teacups. There is only the boat, the water, and myself…” He pauses, opening his eyes and looking at Hannibal to find him looking right back. “…and now you.”       

He looks at Hannibal for a while, searching his eyes, his soft expression, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, his lips. He takes it all in, takes in the only person to ever have truly understood him, to know who he is, and accept it. The only person with whom he has ever had a genuine connection with, who hasn’t seen him as a walking empathy disorder, a tool for catching murderers, fine china or an old mug, a case to study, a killer, the guy who didn’t kill all those people; Hannibal Lecter, who _sees him_ all and is _in love_ with him. This man is currently lying on a little boat next to him in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

Will laughs and when Hannibal raises a questioning eyebrow he says, “The last time I was on this boat, I sailed across this very same ocean to find you in Florence.”

Hannibal smiles minutely into the sky. “I thought you would know where to find me, I missed your presence everywhere I looked,” he replies, turning over onto his side to face Will fully, “But I wasn’t sure if you’d come looking, I could only hope…”

Will curls onto his side to look at him, and Hannibal reaches out a hand to place itself above Will’s neck, stroking gently across his cheek, finishing his confession. “…Then, when I was incarcerated I could barely dare to hope that you would return… but I had to take the chance, however small it might be, it was better than any life where I would not see you again.”

Hannibal’s honesty fills Will’s stomach; this and the cold air free him of his own thoughts. “I was not sure I would return either… but I did… and I—I missed you too… more than I could understand.”

At some point Hannibal has moved closer to him. He is so close now, Will can feel the warmth of his body heat in the small gap between them and his breath puffs across Will’s face, lips parted in a silent question as he leans his head forward.

As the world around him blurs, ceasing to be relevant, Will answers, reaching an arm out to touch, to grab Hannibal’s face in his hand and to press their lips together. The kiss is soft like the ocean breeze, but like that it is full, and Will drowns in it. The wind blows against Will’s back and Will pulls Hannibal closer to him, pressed completely against his front, warm and very _real_.

When the kiss is broken, Will pulls his head back just enough to look at Hannibal, and says, “I—I am in love with you… too.” The words leave his lips without a thought, only a deep feeling surging through his chest, and he can never take them back; not from Hannibal, not from himself. He knows it is true, and it has been true. He could not live his life without Hannibal, and he does not want to. He loves Hannibal, is in love with him.

Hannibal looks at him and kisses Will again, now fervent and desperate. He pushes himself as close to Will as possible, his hand holding Will’s cheek and his leg over Will’s legs, as if he could never be close enough.

“You’re beautiful, Will,” Will feels Hannibal mumble between the hot, wetness of their mouths, and Will nearly pushes him off the boat.

“Hannibal, I will turn this boat around,” Will thinks he quips back, but he is not certain that the words are heard, they may have just dissolved into Hannibal’s mouth.

Will soaks in the touch, boat rocking slightly as he grabs onto Hannibal’s face, his neck, his shoulders, his (Will’s) shirt, holding onto him like a life line, as if Hannibal could disappear at any moment, though he wouldn’t. Their lips smack together, and time is slowing down as they reach and grasp and grope at each other in a small boat in the ocean.

Will’s breathing is heavy, and his heart is pounding when the frantic and frankly, Will thinks, rather ridiculous make-out session pauses, and he rests his head under Hannibal’s head, against his chest, in his embrace. It reminds him oddly of teenage whims, hormones, and fumbling around in a car, and he laughs muffled into Hannibal’s chest, and laughs harder when the other man questions it, smile stretching his face muscles.

“Where will we go?” Will asks, instead of an answer.

“Wherever you want to go…” Will feels Hannibal’s voice vibrate in his chest. He starts to wonder about an answer only to lose any train of thought and concepts of breathing evenly as Hannibal shifts to kiss a line down Will’s neck.

“…But I may suggest, that I never got to show you Florence.”

Will seizes Hannibal’s face into his hands and kisses him again. “I would love that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, that got very fluffy, but I needed that, it is like therapy or something. 
> 
> Oh the irony of the importance of the ocean.
> 
> Some day maybe I will write a long thing for them.
> 
> Please tweet #HannibalMicDrop with us starting 9 PM EST this Saturday! Keep up the hope you guys, I love you all.


End file.
